In a way, this is a feature, not a bug, of generative AI. And artists are wielding this aesthetic to create a new storytelling art form.

The tools, such as Midjourney to generate images, Runway and Sora to produce videos, and Luma AI to create 3D objects, are relatively cheap or free to use. They allow filmmakers without access to major studio budgets or soundstages to make imaginative short films for the price of a monthly subscription.

I’ve studied these new works as the co-director of the AI for Media & Storytelling studio at the University of Southern California.

Surveying the increasingly captivating output of artists from around the world, I partnered with curators Jonathan Wells and Meg Grey Wells to produce the Flux Festival, a four-day showcase of experiments in AI filmmaking, in November 2024.

While this work remains dizzyingly eclectic in its stylistic diversity, I would argue that it offers traces of insight into our contemporary world. I’m reminded that in both literary and film studies, scholars believe that as cultures shift, so do the way we tell stories.

With this cultural connection in mind, I see five visual trends emerging in film.

1. Morphing, blurring imagery

In her “NanoFictions” series, the French artist Karoline Georges creates portraits of transformation. In one short, “The Beast,” a burly man mutates from a two-legged human into a hunched, skeletal cat, before morphing into a snarling wolf.

The metaphor – man is a monster – is clear. But what’s more compelling is the thrilling fluidity of transformation. There’s a giddy pleasure in seeing the figure’s seamless evolution that speaks to a very contemporary sensibility of shapeshifting across our many digital selves.

This sense of transformation continues in the use of blurry imagery that, in the hands of some artists, becomes an aesthetic feature rather than a vexing problem.

Theo Lindquist’s “Electronic Dance Experiment #3,” for example, begins as a series of rapid-fire shots showing flashes of nude bodies in a soft smear of pastel colors that pulse and throb. Gradually it becomes clear that this strange fluidity of flesh is a dance. But the abstraction in the blur offers its own unique pleasure; the image can be felt as much as it can be seen.

2. The surreal

Thousands of TikTok videos demonstrate how cringey AI images can get, but artists can wield that weirdness and craft it into something transformative. The Singaporean artist known as Niceaunties creates videos that feature older women and cats, riffing on the concept of the “auntie” from Southeast and East Asian cultures.

In one recent video, the aunties let loose clouds of powerful hairspray to hold up impossible towers of hair in a sequence that grows increasingly ridiculous. Even as they’re playful and poignant, the videos created by Niceaunties can pack a political punch. They comment on assumptions about gender and age, for example, while also tackling contemporary issues such as pollution.

On the darker side, in a music video titled “Forest Never Sleeps,” the artist known as Doopiidoo offers up hybrid octopus-women, guitar-playing rats, rooster-pigs and a wood-chopping ostrich-man. The visual chaos is a sweet match for the accompanying death metal music, with surrealism returning as a powerful form.

3. Dark tales

The often-eerie vibe of so much AI-generated imagery works well for chronicling contemporary ills, a fact that several filmmakers use to unexpected effect.

In “La Fenêtre,” Lucas Ortiz Estefanell of the AI agency SpecialGuestX pairs diverse image sequences of people and places with a contemplative voice-over to ponder ideas of reality, privacy and the lives of artificially generated people. At the same time, he wonders about the strong desire to create these synthetic worlds. “When I first watched this video,” recalls the narrator, “the meaning of the image ceased to make sense.”

In the music video titled “Closer,” based on a song by Iceboy Violet and nueen, filmmaker Mau Morgó captures the world-weary exhaustion of Gen Z through dozens of youthful characters slumbering, often under the green glow of video screens. The snapshot of a generation that has come of age in the era of social media and now artificial intelligence, pictured here with phones clutched close to their bodies as they murmur in their sleep, feels quietly wrenching.

4. Nostalgia

Sometimes filmmakers turn to AI to capture the past.

Rome-based filmmaker Andrea Ciulu uses AI to reimagine 1980s East Coast hip-hop culture in “On These Streets,” which depicts the city’s expanse and energy through breakdancing as kids run through alleys and then spin magically up into the air.

Ciulu says that he wanted to capture New York’s urban milieu, all of which he experienced at a distance, from Italy, as a kid. The video thus evokes a sense of nostalgia for a mythic time and place to create a memory that is also hallucinatory.

Similarly, David Slade’s “Shadow Rabbit” borrows black-and-white imagery reminiscent of the 1950s to show small children discovering miniature animals crawling about on their hands. In just a few seconds, Slade depicts the enchanting imagination of children and links it to generated imagery, underscoring AI’s capacities for creating fanciful worlds.

5. New times, new spaces

In his video for the song “The Hardest Part” by Washed Out, filmmaker Paul Trillo creates an infinite zoom that follows a group of characters down the seemingly endless aisle of a school bus, through the high school cafeteria and out onto the highway at night. The video perfectly captures the zoominess of time and the collapse of space for someone young and in love haplessly careening through the world.

The freewheeling camera also characterizes the work of Montreal-based duo Vallée Duhamel, whose music video “The Pulse Within” spins and twirls, careening up and around characters who are cut loose from the laws of gravity.

In both music videos, viewers experience time and space as a dazzling, topsy-turvy vortex where the rules of traditional time and space no longer apply.

Right now, in a world where algorithms increasingly shape everyday life, many works of art are beginning to reflect how intertwined we’ve become with computational systems.

What if machines are suggesting new ways to see ourselves, as much as we’re teaching them to see like humans?

But its not the Mount Olympus you’d normally think of. It’s an opulent house with large-screen TVs and gold watches. Overseeing it all is mighty Zeus, the king of the gods, played by Jeff Goldblum.

Netflix’s new six-part series, KAOS, is a brilliant reimagining of classical mythology for the 21st century. Created by Charlie Covell, writer on The End of the F***ing World (2017–19), the series follows six humans who learn they are part of a larger prophecy – their fates at the mercy and whims of the Olympian gods.

Narrated by Prometheus (Stephen Dillane), the series is darkly comedic in its exploration of themes from the original myths, such as power and abuse, gender politics and life after death.

Goldblum’s take on Zeus is mercurial. Powerful, but petulant and selfish, his Zeus is insecure. It’s a fascinating take on the god. “My character is complicated and charismatic, not to mention cruel,” the actor revealed in an interview.

The ancient Greeks themselves were ambiguous about Zeus. He could be a fearful figure or a humorous one. He ended up with dozens of epithets, ranging from Areius (“warlike”) to Zygius (“presider over marriage”), and most commonly Olympios and Panhellenios to signify his divine power over gods and humans alike.

Hollywood has similarly found a variety of ways to present Zeus, but usually in supporting roles (unlike in KAOS, where Zeus takes centre stage). In fact, one early cinematic appearance of the god was at the birth of filmmaking itself, in Georges Méliès’ silent film Jupiter’s Thunderballs (1903).

Zeus the powerful and vengeful god

Zeus (and his Roman equivalent Jupiter) was the god of sky and thunder in the Greek pantheon on Mount Olympus, and the father of many heroes and demigods of classical mythology. His main visual attribute was the lightning bolt, which is hinted at cleverly in a number of scenes in Goldblum’s performance.

The most common portrayal of Zeus in film and television is that of a vengeful and wrathful god who interferes with and manipulates the activities of others.

In Clash of the Titans (1981), a retelling of the myth of Perseus, Zeus (Laurence Olivier) manipulates the gods to support Perseus.

And this continues in the 2010 remake and its sequel, Wrath of the Titans (2012), in which Zeus (Liam Neeson) is an active participant in a plot centred on the struggle against Hades.

In the film Immortals (2011), although Zeus is often detached from the plot and merely observes, he is ultimately roused to action by anger.

Similarly, in the Percy Jackson films and TV series (based on Rick Riordan’s books), Zeus is characterised by his anger directed at Percy as he accuses him of stealing his lightning bolt.

Zeus the lustful abuser

Zeus was, well… there is no other way of saying it… horny. Incredibly horny. Despite the long-suffering protestations of his wife (and sister), Hera, Zeus would go on to father innumerable gods and demigods in the original myths.

His affairs with both divine and mortal women were almost always non-consensual and always ended badly for the seduced woman, who would either immediately die upon seeing Zeus in divine form or suffer the inventive vengeance of Hera. As Susie Donkin explained in the title of her 2020 book: Zeus is a Dick.

Unlike many filmed portrayals of Zeus, KAOS does not shy away from this aspect of his behaviour. But it is perhaps best represented in the adult animated series Blood of Zeus (2020-), in which much of the plot is driven by the aftermath of Zeus’ sexual proclivities.

Zeus the father figure

Hercules (Herakles in Greek) is one of the most filmed characters of all time, so the appearance of Zeus as his father is expected.

Perhaps most fondly remembered by all is Disney’s film Hercules (1997), in which Zeus (voiced by Rip Torn) is a warm and wise father. “For a true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart,” he advises his son.

Hercules in New York (1970) is a cult film best known as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first (dubbed) role as the titular strongman in contemporary New York. Here, Zeus (Ernest Graves) is responsible for Hercules’ exile – angry, but wanting the best for his son.

Anthony Quinn played Zeus in the TV movie The Circle of Fire (1994), which kick-started the TV series Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) and its spin-off Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001). Zeus appeared periodically in both. Although Hercules in the series often referred to the neglectfulness of his father, Zeus is still presented as a loving parent in each appearance.

Zeus the comical

Zeus is also perfect to poke fun at. The ancients did it; in Aristophanes’ comedic play The Birds, for example, Zeus’ all-seeing vision is blocked by merely a raised parasol.

Perhaps the best example of this in modern cinema is Russell Crowe’s depiction in the Marvel movie Thor: Love and Thunder (2022). In this campy take, Zeus is all lightning bolts, with a toga that hides very little, and a controversial Greek accent.

But there was also a poignancy in Crowe’s Zeus, such as when he states:

It used to be that being a god, it meant something. People would whisper your name, before sharing their deepest hopes and dreams. They begged you for mercy, without ever knowing if you were actually listening. Now, when they look to the sky, they don’t ask us for lightning, they don’t ask us for rain, they just want to see one of their so-called superheroes. When did we become the joke?

Just as the ancient Greeks had many versions of Zeus, so does the modern world. And Jeff Goldblum’s brilliant performance suggests we certainly haven’t seen the last of Zeus’ thunderbolts onscreen.

The plot centres on a physician (Tom Cruise) whose wife (Nicole Kidman) reveals that she had contemplated having an affair a year earlier. He becomes obsessed with having his own sexual encounter. When he discovers an underground sex group, he attends one of their masked orgies.

Having not made a film in 12 years since Full Metal Jacket in 1987, Eyes Wide Shut was hotly anticipated. Titillated by juicy rumours in the British tabloids, critics and fans who were expecting a steamy X-rated psychological thriller were inevitably disappointed. “Eyes Wide Shut turns out to be the dirtiest movie of 1958,” quipped one critic. Wait 12 years for anything and it won’t turn out to be quite so good as you imagined.

But where English speaking audiences panned it, the film was warmly received in Latin and Mediterranean countries. And in the long term, those audiences proved to be right and the film has grown in stature since. Not everyone might agree that, as Kubrick claimed, it was his best work but they certainly should see its merits today.

Kubrick adored the work of Arthur Schnitzler, the Austrian author of the 1926 text, Traumnovelle (translated into Dream Story in English), which became his source material. Once described as the greatest portrayer of adultery in German-language literature, Schnitzler wrote about themes of sex, marriage, betrayal and above all, jealousy. He even, it is rumoured, kept a diary of every orgasm he ever experienced.

Given that Kubrick discovered Traumnovelle in the early 1950s, it influenced almost every film he made. Consider the rapes in Fear and Desire (1952) and Killer’s Kiss (1955), the adultery and jealousy in The Killing (1956) and the attraction to younger women in Lolita (1962). Consider also the sexual violence in A Clockwork Orange (1971), the adultery in Barry Lyndon (1975), the marital troubles of The Shining (1980) and the toxic masculinity of Full Metal Jacket. They all culminated in Eyes Wide Shut.

This extends to the films Kubrick didn’t make too. The Freudian tale of Burning Secret written by Schnitzler’s contemporary, Stefan Zweig, that was abandoned in 1956 through to Napoleon, a figure that intrigued Kubrick partly because he had, in his own words, a sex life worthy of Arthur Schnitzler.

Kubrick returned to Eyes Wide Shut time and again during his career. But it took until the mid-1990s, when Kubrick was in his 60s, before he was able to execute it.

He struggled with adapting the source material. How does a director who spent his career putting big themes like nuclear war, the space race and Vietnam on the big screen put the tiny intimate moments of marriage on there?

His wife, Christiane, kept stopping him, telling him they were too young. Or maybe it was because Kubrick was legendary for his pre-production research, so only with four decades of marriage under his belt did he feel he really understood the topic.

By the time it was eventually made, Kubrick was in a poor state of health. Already a ponderous filmmaker, he was slowing up. The production was long, arduous and still holds the record for the longest continuous shoot in cinema history.

When it finally wrapped on June 17 1998, he was exhausted. Eyes Wide Shut had been filmed over 294 days, spread over 579 calendar days, including 19 for re-shooting with actress Marie Richardson, totalling slightly over a year and seven months. And post-production would last for a further nine months, only brought to a halt by Kubrick’s death.

Not around to influence the marketing, the film suffered from a poor critical reception. The result was a disappointed audience, looking for salaciousness where none existed. That, in turn, influenced their response and the initial commercial failure of the film in the US.

Many US and British critics felt the film was too long, the acting was unconvincing, the New York sets looked fake, the ideas were weak and the eagerly anticipated orgy scene was ridiculous. They thought it was hermetic, too ordered and too closed off.

In the end, ironically, it was the highest grosser of any Kubrick film. It cost US$65 million (£40 million) to make with another US$30 million in publicity costs and eventually grossed US$162 million worldwide.

Influence

Similar to The Shining, Eyes Wide Shut became the source of any number
of conspiracy theories. It has even been seen as a warning to the predations of convicted US sex offenders, Harvey Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein.

Now, it is regarded as a classic, maybe not Kubrick’s best film, but one with enough layers to reward repeated viewing. And its influence is felt in wider popular culture.

Consider the explicit reference in Jordan Peele’s 2017 film Get Out, a director much influenced by Kubrick’s style, when one character says: “You in some Eyes Wide Shut situation. Leave, motherfucker.”

Read more:
Stanley Kubrick redefined: recent research challenges myths to reveal the man behind the legend

Todd Field, who played Nick Nightingale in Eyes Wide Shut, showed a Kubrickian influence in the image making, pacing and almost dreamlike atmosphere of the film Tár which he directed in 2022. Jonathan Glazer’s Birth (2004) owes a huge debt to Eyes Wide Shut also.

In the final analysis, anyone who refuses to engage with Eyes Wide Shut is refusing to understand Kubrick as a filmmaker. He wanted to make it at the very point he began making feature films. It lurks behind every film he made.